


Blame game

by rayfelle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Self-Blame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:39:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayfelle/pseuds/rayfelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe, Harry looked at her the same way James had looked at Lily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame game

He looked at her as if she was the ocean.

He looked at her as if she was the stars brought down on this earth.

He looked at her with the kind of love that could destroy mountains and illuminate the night brighter than the sun. Even in the faded grays of the pictures James’ love for Lily still painted every part and fiber of the two of them in hundreds and millions of colors and shades. It was endless, it was beautiful, it was warmer than any summer day and fire could ever be.

Harry could spend hours looking at the pictures. Moments frozen in time, saved and preserved to never grow up and move past these small meetings. Like secrets kept pressed between the pages of old books and saved for future generations to find and laugh over.

Too bad that for him these secrets were bittersweet and mixed with a certain kind of guilt that didn’t seem to leave him be. Over the years it lessened and retreated to some distant part of him. The prophecy, the danger of war – things he could not control. But it still burned with shame, it still hurt like a wound that refused to heal. How many times had he wished to the Old Gods for something to take it all away.

The happiness that his parents share.

The futures that had shined so bright for them.

Gone, everything was gone in a flash of bright green ( _green, like his eyes and the freshly sprouted grass_ ) and a pile of ashes.

Sometimes, only sometimes, Harry thinks it’s almost selfish of him to move on. Like it’s not his place to try and seek a happy life, a normal life. A life of his own, with small feet running across dark wood floors and soft carpets, with laughter bouncing off the brightly painted walls and with new memories that slowly replaced the old and scarred ones. Was his happiness allowed to be?

It was hard to believe that he was allowed something at all.

Harry was raised for one thing only (two, if someone bothered to nitpick) – to die for the sake of the people. What was left of him now, that the use of the weapon was gone? Was he allowed to finally decide for himself? Was he finally allowed to properly mourn and rebuild himself all over again? Should he try, was there a meaning to a broken hero when he had nothing to live for now?

Family buried in the cold soil of the land he protected. Friends scattered and with scars etched in their skin.

Survivors guilt. Saviors guilt. Destiny and duty. Promises. Lies. Manipulation. Free will.

It all went hand in hand.

With one final look at the pictures of his parents Harry decides to brave the world once more. Duty called, the people called. He was torn to pieces, to sides as the people didn’t seem to let him rest once and for all. How could he, the savior? It just wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair, nothing was easy. Not for him. Not for the one who was the beginning and end of this war.

He almost jumps when cold hands envelop his face, cover his eyes and paint the world a black and endless nothingness. Swirls of colors zip past him from time to time, explode like fireworks every time he tries to blink them away. He would panic if the fingers on his eyes weren’t so well familiar, so soothing.

“Shhh, stop thinking. Stop feeling.” Luna whispers from somewhere far away and too close at the same time. Her hands are starting to warm up against Harry’s skin and everything tingles. “Forget and calm down.” She’s good at this. Practice makes perfect.

The fake Harry, the one that had been made and taught to be the hero that doesn’t refuse, stirs and tries to guilt him into shaking the girl off and moving on. But Harry has been learning to say no, has been working to break these chains off and leave them behind. Luna was there for the whole journey, for the battle of his own will against his training to remind Harry of his worth. His happiness that his parents died for.

His life was not a mistake, he whispers.

His parents died to protect and to save him, to allow their son to live and grow up and fall in love, to learn how happiness could pain the world in colors and shades never seen before. They died because of their love, not because of what the world wanted them to die for.

Harry had the right to live for himself. His parents would have wanted it.

“That’s right. Forget about the invisible monsters. They only make things worse, they make the lies seem real, Harry. And I know you can fight them.” Luna whispers into the black and then pulls her hands away. She places them on his cheeks and cups his face, hold him together.

She was beautiful, this girl.

Harry loved this girl.

She was like the quiet before the storm.

She was the swirl of reds and oranges and pinks when the sun rose slowly from the horizon.

She was the gentle breeze of a winter’s morning.

Maybe, Harry looked at her the same way James had looked at Lily. Still did, in the gray photos hung on the bright walls of his house.

So he breathes, first for her and then for himself. He finds the balance and the calm deep inside. “Thank you.” Something unravels and dissolves. Something changes in the air around them. Something breaks away from the iceberg surrounding his heart. “You’re always right.”

And she smiles. Wide and bright and addicting. Like the sun and the mood and the stars. Like everything worth fighting for. “I know I am, Harry Potter. But only when I deal with you.” She kisses his forehead, stood on tiptoes to reach better. His skin tingles all over again.

They stand in the quiet. They breath in the relief and the solitude.

They love.

They live.

They move on from the demons living in their closets and minds. They build their life again. Without the rules set by others, guidelines forgotten and caution thrown away. They have each other and that’s enough for now.

Everything else that comes their way, they will face eventually.


End file.
